


Liminal Spaces

by Smoakin_dontburnyourself



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 'Set it up' AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe-New York, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Ben is a junior analyst thank you very much, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Rey and Ben play cupid, Rey is an assistant, Slow Burn, meet cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-25 23:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14988347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smoakin_dontburnyourself/pseuds/Smoakin_dontburnyourself
Summary: The guy’s nose is pinched in that snobby rich guy kind of way and she’ll be damned if the dude doesn’t look like Phasma’s type.Rey grins and Ben watches her suspiciously“Ben, hear me out, I have an idea”-or the one where ESPN assistant Rey and Junior analyst Ben try to trick their bosses into falling in love so they can have some peace.





	1. Truffle Cheeseburgers

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is based off the Netflix movie 'Set it up' (Which I adored and infinitely recommend)

It’s _late—_

 

no, not just _late_ , it’s the kind of late that no longer deserves the dignity of a specific hour, only adjectives like _ungodly_ and _depraved_ and holy shit it’s fucking _late_.

 

Rey is on a first name basis with this type of late and while some might call it torture, Rey, well, Rey also calls it torture (though on her resume she’s inclined to call It a _job_ )

 

The office of said job, having long been vacated by un-enslaved employees, has reached solitary confinement levels of silence and Rey, from her spot sprawled on top an orthopedic swivel chair, fights to keep her eyes from drooping.

 

It’s a valiant effort, really, but alas it’s a lost cause and _wow_ are her eyelids heavy, when did they get so heavy? and her head lulls softly to the side, a shiny drop of drool already collecting at the corner of her mouth and-

 

“ ** _REY_**!”

 

Her head snaps back so fast it nearly gives her whiplash

 

“ _Christ almighty mother of god_ ”

 

She scrambles to her feet with a jolt, grabbing a pen, her laptop—she’s halfway through the threshold of the office and— _where the shit is the appointment book?_ —She scurries three steps back, chucking papers off of her desk as if they’d personally offended her, _aha there you are you little bastard_ —Three steps forward, wipe off the drool-

 

The stylish blonde pixie cut that is Gwyneth Phasma watches her scramble from behind the blueish tint of an excessively large 27 inch iMac. Her heel taps on the hardwood floor impatiently, delicate features contorted halfway between exasperated and unimpressed.

 

Rey sweeps into the office, finally, pen perched between her teeth, an armful of laptop and an overweight appointment book and-

 

“Are you trying to starve me?”

 

“What? No-” Rey says, somewhat horrified, hoisting herself up into a semblance of correct posture.

 

Phasma considers her for a moment, blue eyes icy and unblinking

 

“Then where is my dinner?” her eyebrows are perched expectantly though she doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing “order me that thing that I like from that place that I go to” she says, perfectly manicured nail trailing her words “you know, the 24-hour place? The one with the disgustingly creepy owner—what’s his name, Akbar?”

 

“Unkar” Rey supplies not without disdain

 

“Yes, exactly—and make sure Terex submits a draft for that NASCAR piece tomorrow by 8 o’clock _on the dot_ , not 8’o five or 8’o one—8 am sharp, I didn’t make this website successful off waiting for lazy, arrogant men with too much testosterone and not enough brain cells—understand?”

 

“ _Yes_ , Yeah, 8am sharp, thing from that place that you go to, testosterone, brain cells, got it”

 

she scribbles the note

 

**8AM TEREX DRAFT OR DIE!!**

 

And then she waits—she can feel Phasma thinking, and It’s _never_ a good idea to engage in any sudden movements while the wheels are turning—she had learned that the hard way.

 

“Did you return that red dress I told you to?”

 

“I sure did” Rey pipes “and after a two-hour long commute to their headquarters and a very intense conversation with their sales rep that ended in me nearly getting arrested for public disturbance—I got you a full refund and 25% off your next purchase as a sign of good faith- “

 

“I want it back—I’ll wear it to my brunch meeting on Thursday” 

 

“Back, yes, absolutely”

 

Admittedly, it’s not what she expected when she’d imagined her dream job.

 

For one, she doesn’t even get health insurance and for two, well, everything else.

 

Rey understands how this is good for her career, working for Gwyneth freakin’ Phasma—Ideally, she would work as her assistant for a year, gain her respect/mentorship, write the best article of her life, show said best article of her life to said Gwyneth freakin’ Phasma, and _voila_ she would have one of her pieces published by _thee_ most prominent sports website in the industry.

 

Key word here being— _Ideally_

 

Because it’s been three years and Rey can hardly muster up the energy to wash her hair, let alone write anything half way decent that doesn’t have the word ‘meeting’ or ‘appointment’ at its crux.

 

It would be depressing, truly, if she slept enough to really think it through.

 

Instead, though, she finds herself a handful of blocks from the office building (which has long been closed, lights off and everything) cramming her limbs into the hole in the wall food place that is _Jakku Junk_ (it’s ironic, apparently, because the food here is fucking _expensive)_   

 

The place remains unchanged, fancy despite its size, not entirely empty, despite the late hour (rich people are vampires, she’s convinced)

 

She sticks out like a sore thumb in her embroidered jeans and purple sweater but it doesn’t matter, not really, because its shit o’clock in the morning and she’s here to pick up an order of truffle mac and cheese and a ridiculously pricey burger she’s thrown in for herself (there has to be some perks to the job, right?)

 

Unkar Plutt, the smug bastard, drawls a greeting once she gets past the small line and up to the reception podium, and it truly does bring out the beautiful jaundice of his eyes—she thinks to tell him as much, if only to wipe the disgusting grin off his face but, again, it’s the asscrack of night, she wants to go home, and the sooner she gets her boss fed, the better.   

 

So, she settles for a tight glare instead

 

“Charming as ever, Plutt” Rey bites, unwilling to roll over for the sleazeball who thinks he has the upper hand because her boss happens to like truffle mac and cheese (whatever the heck that is)

 

He finds her hostility amusing, apparently, because she earns a jolly laugh from the man which, after a moment, transitions into a phlegmy smoker’s cough—all of which she is entirely front and center for (lucky her). She watches the display utterly bemused and suddenly glad to not have anything in her stomach.   

 

Once he’s done swallowing back his mucus he grunts and gets back to business, calling out her order to be retrieved from the back and sticking out a meaty hand before rattling off the total

 

“$46.84”

 

Rey mutters something about ridiculous prices under her breath as she digs around her purse for the company MasterCard. She realizes, not without frustration, that she really needs to clean out her purse because who really needs that many Altoids and the amount of crumpled up receipts is truly obscene and- _ah_ _yes, there it is-_

 

Plutt, chivalrous as ever, of course waits until she’s done excavating for the tiny piece of plastic to mutter “ _Cash only_ ”

 

It’s like a death sentence and he takes delight in it, she can tell, in the way her eyes bug out in panic- _Shit, no, I need that truffle mac and cheese_. 

 

“What, no, _since when_?”

 

He points at a sign that hangs overhead, its engraved in an offensive gold color and it reads CASH ONLY TAKEOUT

 

“You’ve got to be _shitting_ me”

 

“ ‘fraid not my little _Rey_ of sunshine”

 

Rey, not really one to take the time to read a room is pretty sure that the stupid grin on his face means they’re going to fight and she might or might not have been ready to swing when she hears a deep and panting voice far too close to her ear “Whose food is that?”

 

_What the shit?_

 

“Whose food is-whose food does it _look like_?” and now she understands why New York has never been accused of being full of _geniuses_ -Rey rolls her eyes at the guy, not bothering to engage him further, and turns back to Plutt who, in addition to looking completely over the entire situation, holds the bag of food hostage in his clutches.

 

She’s about to say something mortifying like ‘ _please, I’ll pay you tomorrow, you know I’m good for it’_ when Plutt turns to the overly tall man standing beside her and says, “Yours if you have $46.84” _the slimy bastard_

 

Rey pales “no no no no _no_ —I _need_ that mac and cheese, you don’t understand-” but deep and panting is already digging into the pocket of his jeans for a black leather wallet that looks like it has seen much better days. He produces a crumbled fifty-dollar bill from said wallet smiling an uneven triumphant smile

 

“Keep the change”

 

Plutt rolls his eyes “how very generous of you” and hands over the bag of food  

 

Rey, who isn’t proud of it, but won’t apologize for it either, snatches up a plastic handle while the bag in in transit

 

“If I don’t show up with that food in less than five minutes my boss will kill me and decompose my body in the barrel of military grade sulfuric acid which she keeps entirely for that purpose”

 

He raises an eyebrow at her, pulling a little on his side of the bag as if testing her grip on it

 

It’s a steel grip. She doesn’t let go, she can’t, as ridiculous as it sounds, her life depends on that mac and cheese. So instead she allows him to pull them out of the stuffy storefront and into the late September breeze

 

“It’ll only take fifteen minutes for you to decompose entirely, if that’s any consolation”

 

He’s tall, like, really _fucking tall_ , and altogether large, limbs long and shoulders broad—but, Rey figures, if she wasn’t meant to pick fights with people that are bigger than her, she’d never get to pick fights with _anyone_.

 

“That is literally the _opposite_ of consolation”

 

He pulls on the bag again and sighs when she refuses to let go

 

“Listen, lady, if _I_ don’t show up in five minutes with this food _my_ boss will lend my body out to Snoke as his personal chew toy-and while this-” he says, motioning between them and where they stand connected by irrationally expensive takeout “has been _fun_ , I’d rather not get mauled by a small Italian man who is probably at least a thousand years old- “

 

“we’ll share it!” Rey blurts, suddenly and loud enough to make the guy flinch “Yes! There’s two dinners in there, one for my boss and one for me, you-I-we can each take one that way you don’t get chewed out and I don’t have to finally commit a felony”

 

Tall guy hesitates

 

“ _Please_ -assistant to assistant-”

 

“I am _not_ an assistant” he scoffs “I’m a junior analyst” which, Rey knows, is idiot for _intern_

 

Rey nods seriously “yes, and while I understand how easy it is for you to look down on me from all the way up there, _Jr_ , I would really appreciate it if you helped me out here”

 

He sighs again, turning his eyes heavenwards “ _Fine_. what are the meals?”

 

God it’s the little miracles in life

 

“Okay I’m going to take the truffle mac and cheese” she says, taking the rectangular container out of the bag “and _you_ can take the burger- “

 

“Are you insane? I’m not showing up there with a plain burger- “

 

“Okay okay” Rey says, putting up her hands in surrender “look-” she crouches down opening both containers and scooping a heap of mac and cheese onto the beef paddy “see what I’m making? truffle cheeseburger” she closes the lid, patting the sandwich lightly “this burger could win awards”

 

He doesn’t look impressed, only a little amused. It’s almost a _moment,_ you know, assistant to intern, but then

 

“you owe me fifty dollars” _the prick_ “and I’m charging you 8% interest”

 

“You’re a monster” she says

 

“Yes, I am”

 


	2. what did you just swipe me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t peg you as the Tinder type” 
> 
> famous last words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that left Kudos on the first chapter :)

Friday takes forever to come, but somehow Rey manages to survive. It’s the only day that Phasma leaves at the semblance of a reasonable hour and so Rey spends the day at her desk, looking at the clock as if staring will make It go any faster.

 

Time crawls towards six until finally, _finally_ she sees Phasma start to power down her computer through the glass walls of her office. She watches from the safe spot behind her monitor as Phasma gathers up her things, slips on her coat, and makes her way out.  

 

“Rey, I’ll be leaving for the afternoon” and truly, there is nothing in the world that could bring her more joy than those seven words do in that very moment. 

 

Rey makes a show of looking up from her desk and if Phasma notices how happy she is to hear of her leaving, she makes no indication.

 

“I expect you back first thing in the morning, I’ll need you here at least thirty minutes before me- “

 

“of course, what time will that be?”

 

 “-and I _expect_ the Cutler interview on my desk”

 

Rey nods slowly and makes a mental note of it  

 

She thinks to answer something reassuring like ‘I’ll be here’ or ‘see you then’ or ‘yeah, I’d love to come into work on a _Saturday_ ’ but before she can decide, Phasma is already walking by her and out towards the lift without another glance.

 

The doors of the elevator close on her and the entire office breathes a collective sigh of relief. Rey lets out a breath, shoulders all but relaxed, and turns back to her screen determined to finish before the Thai place closes for the night.

 

Rey makes it home a couple hours later after finishing up her emails and wrestling herself onto the subway, a bag of takeout hanging from her wrist and her laptop case tucked under her arm. The train is hot and sweaty but she sits next to an old lady that tells her about her days of being a rockette and so she doesn’t really mind it.

 

The apartment is quiet, Finn having yet to arrive from work, so she settles on the couch to watch baseball highlights on her laptop. It doesn’t take long before she starts dozing off, head lolling back against the cushions, eyelids finally yielding.  

 

She wakes only once Finn bursts through the door, briefcase in hand, loosening his tie before falling back into the couch with a tired sigh. She’s lived with him long enough to know his ‘I had a shitty day’ face and so instead of asking she shoves a carton of Pad Thai into his hands and texts Poe to request his boyfriendly support.    

 

It doesn’t take Poe long to make it across the city and up to their tiny studio apartment. He comes bearing ice cream and magic shell so an hour later they’re sitting around the T.V stuffing their face with mint chip, one of the Alien sequels droning on in the background.  

 

A horde of baby Xenomorphs are exploding from some guy’s chest when Poe, from his spot propped on Finn’s lap, clears his throat and says

 

“So, Rey, meet any cute guys recently?” his tone is just left of casual and Rey could almost laugh at his attempt at subtlety  

 

Rey hums around a spoonful of ice-cream “Not unless you count Greg, our new mailman”

 

Poe shifts to look up at Finn who snorts and shakes his head “I’m pretty sure Gregg is pushing _sixty_ , Rey”

 

“Hey! Gregg’s a lovely man, I should be so lucky “

 

“You’re impossible” says Poe at which she just shrugs

 

“You know there’s only you for me, Poe” she says, blowing him a kiss, one that he catches and makes a show of saving for later.

 

“As flattering as that is and as much as you’ll hate me for saying this rey-rey, you really need to get laid”  

 

He’s not _wrong_ exactly but Finn shoots him a look anyways

 

“What?” Poe says innocently “You know it’s true! She’s young and hot and _should_ be spending what little free time she has getting laid instead of watching horror movies and being boring with us”

 

“Hey! We’re not- “

 

“Yes, we are. And I love us, I love you” Poe says with sincerity, looking up into his eyes. The moment is honest and charged with _something_ and Rey really doesn’t know whether to be jealous or charmed by their mutual adoration. She settles for a mixture of the two, watching them with enough attention to completely earn her status as the third wheel. 

 

The aliens continue their onslaught onscreen and Rey turns to watch with the newfound warmth of something sappy making its home in her stomach.

 

Poe lifts his head then to peck at Finn’s lips before turning his attention back onto Rey

 

“I’m just saying, Rey, there’s a perfectly good app for that and If you would just give it a try I’m sure you could find someone decent to dick you down every once in a while— _god only knows_ that the stress knot in your neck could use some orgasmic bliss- “

 

“Poe!”

 

Finn looks scandalized, Poe looks unabashed and Rey guesses that that’s how they all end up hunched over her phone trying to pick a cover picture for her profile. She figures its worth a try, if only to make them feel less guilty for always being so in love in her presence.

 

They argue for longer than should be necessary to pick a profile picture for _Tinder_ until finally, to Poe’s absolute horror and Finn’s infinite amusement, instead of picking some of the more flattering pictures of herself from her collection, Rey decides on a picture of her sitting criss cross on their couch, beer raised, hair a mess, smiling happily at the camera backlit by what she can almost make out on the T.V as a hockey game. Admittedly, it’s not the best picture of her, but it’s truthful and if she’s going to find some guy to schedule dick appointments with, he’s gotta know exactly what he’s getting himself into.  

 

Then, since there really is no politically correct way of writing “my friends are making me do this because I’m perpetually third-wheeling them” in her bio, she writes something along the lines of: _WOMEN commentating on Sports!?!?!!? what's next? MEN commentating on every aspect of women's entire lives??!?_

 

Might as well get that one out of the way.

 

By the time the profile is entirely done and they’re off to swiping, Poe is halfway to having a fit, Finn is sore from laughing so much, and Rey’s eyes could bleed form the sheer amount of bathroom selfies which, interestingly enough, all look like they’ve been taken in the exact same fucking bathroom.  

 

They nearly give up entirely, Poe finally admitting that yes, all the cute guys must either be taken or gay, when someone finally catches her eye

 

His name is Ben and he looks _familiar_

 

“oooo Ben” say’s Poe, shifting forward to get a better look at the picture “He’s cute”

 

The image is simple, just him leaning back on a chair in what seems to be a bar of some sort, hair halfway to overgrown, beard scraggly in a way that suggests he’ll shave sooner rather than later and yeah

 

he _is_ cute.

 

The shadow on his face emphasizes the strong cut of his jaw and while his ears and nose are a little bit too big to be considered conventionally handsome, they give his face a depth that makes her want to keep looking

 

She scrolls a little, smiling a tad wider when Poe reads that his bio says that he loves dogs and hates tinder. It’s refreshing, really and she can almost imagine that lazy smile directed at her, his large body tucked against her own, his lips, soft and full-

 

_Almost_

 

Because the next picture on his profile is different—gone is the scruff and the overgrown hair, he’s wearing a suit and he’s not really smiling, not with his cheeks anyways and _holy shit_ -

 

“It’s the truffle burger asshole!”

 

and Finn and Poe turn to look at her with a chorus of “ _What_?” and “ _Oh god_ ”

 

“The asshole who food jacked me the other day!”

 

“I’m almost entirely positive _food jacking_ is not a thing”

 

“Yeah that doesn’t sound like a thing”

 

“It most definitely _is_ a thing”

 

He gets a swipe left, _obviously_. She doesn’t date food thieves, no matter how unconventionally cute they may be.  

 

a quick google search reveals that he works in the same building as her (go figure) and so the next day sees Rey taking the lift to the top floor with exactly 54 dollars clutched in her right hand. 

 

She watches the floors light up with an impatient tap of her foot _. It’ll be simple, just walk in, pay him back, try not to think of lazy smiles and overgrown hair, simple_.

 

She’s not at all surprised to find that the top floor offices are infinitely more luxurious than the rest of the building, all marble floors and mahogany fixtures.  

 

Her blouse is altogether too bright amidst the sea of black suits and muted ties and the side glances she’s getting has her thinking that it’s been a while since these men have seen a woman stroll through the doors of First Order Inc.   

 

There’s lines of desks all over the large space but her target is hard to miss once she finally gets past the ghastly looking security guy. He sits hunched at the biggest of the desks, which is still far too small for his broad frame, staring down onto a stack of papers, a phone trapped between his shoulder and the side of his head.

 

He hangs up right as she reaches his desk, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair.

 

“I didn’t peg you as the Tinder type”

 

He flinches a little at the unexpected sound of her voice, startled and maybe a little annoyed by the interruption. From the look in his eyes she can tell that he’s trying to place her, he squints, head tilting off center. Her hair is different, down this time but it only takes a couple seconds before recognition flickers across his face

 

“Yeah? I didn’t peg you for a _Yankees_ fan” he mutters

 

Rey gasps, entirely provoked “You live in _New York_ ”

 

He shrugs and she glares

 

“You should be kicked out of this fine city for saying that” she says before slapping the money onto his cluttered desk

 

“50 bucks plus 8% interest”

 

He blinks at the money, confused, staring at it like it’s an affront to his dignity

 

“You know you didn’t have to pay me back”

 

“No, actually, I didn’t know that, given the fact that you literally said, and I quote, ‘ _you owe me fifty dollars’_ ” she makes air quotes with her fingers in a manner that’s a little too aggressive to be considered entirely conversational and he stares at her like she’s entirely insane  

 

“Plus, I don’t make it a habit to owe people money so-” she says, sliding the money further into the litter of papers

 

He nods as if understanding that, at least, and pockets the money

 

“You should really learn to carry cash” he says, as if letting her into a secret

 

“and _you_ should really learn not to highjack people’s boss’s dinners”

she’s jabbing a finger at him accusingly and the asshole is _laughing_. Not just grinning or chucking, straight up _laughing_ at _her_.

 

It makes her want to slap him but it _also_ makes him look a lot like that first version of him she’d seen on Tinder, Ben with the scruff and the smile a little too wide for his face

 

and however unwelcome the thought may be, it makes her think that he looks, well, _good_ when he laughs like that.

 

“You’re an asshole” she tells him, turning to leave with as much of her dignity as she can muster.

 

She’s a couple steps towards the door when something he’d said finally dawns on her

 

“ _wait_ -” she stops, turning back to look at him “how did you know I liked the Yankees” she’s thinking out loud now and _oh yes_ , her tinder picture, she’s wearing a Yankees tee in it, worn out from how much she wears it, probably stained in more than one place and- _he saw her profile_. She’s mortified by the thought for a second although it makes sense that he would have seen it, that her picture would have flashed on the app awaiting his finger to swipe her however which way.

 

He opens his mouth to say something but no words come out

 

Instead, some passerby, a short man whose haircut looks like an attempt to relive his frat days, blows out a low whistle “that’s a nice ass, Solo, didn’t think you had it in ya”

 

Rey’s head snaps towards the man whom she proceeds to flip off. He puts two palms up in surrender and strolls off to find his desk.

 

“What a fucking prick” she mutters

 

When she turns back to Ben she’s expecting an eye roll or a scoff, some kind brush off

 

but then something strange and surprisingly mesmerizing happens—he _blushes_. It blooms at the high points of his cheekbones, diffusing over the spans of his cheeks and ending its trail at the peaks of his ears which color a bright red. 

 

She watches carefully as the blush deepens and settles as if intending to stay.

 

He recovers after a beat, somewhat clumsily, coughing into a closed fist. He’s looking at her, pale cheeks tinted pink, his dark eyes soft like molten chocolate and-

 

“I-“

 

“Well-“

 

They speak at the same time, then stop, waiting for the other to start, all the while stewing in an awkward kind of silence that, to her absolute horror, is now making _her_ blush.

 

“Right, well, thank you for the money, you didn’t have to, but thanks”

 

“Yeah, sure, I mean, thanks for lending it to me the other day-“

 

he nods “see you around, I guess” and then she nods and _when did the air get so heavy_

 

She does this weird finger pointing thing that kind of makes her want to die and turns on her heel walking as quickly as her legs will take her back towards the lift.

 

Once inside she takes a deep steadying breath, the only coherent thought in her head being, _what the heck was that?_  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey's tinder bio is inspired by a tweet I saw but can't find (I will link it if I find it) 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	3. Neon hotdogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has an idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all that are leaving Kudos and comments, I'm glad you guys are enjoying this story :)

Shit hits the fan on Wednesday.

 

And while it’s not entirely surprising, per se, it’s altogether unfortunate that Rey has to be there to witness it.

 

She’s in the tiny breakroom in the middle of making a pot of coffee when Rose from graphic design comes barreling around the corner.

 

“Rey, _Mark_ is here” and that is _never_ a good thing

 

“ _Shit_ how long?”

 

“Not long, he just walked in but it’s not looking good”

 

They scurry out of the breakroom, coffee brewing all but forgotten, and walk slowly towards their desks.

 

Mark, Phasma’s fiancée, whom they’ve always joked could pass as Sting’s significantly less cool cousin, is pacing inside the glass walls of Phasma’s office.

 

Outside of the office, everyone watches the exchange as stealthily as possible. Rey, who is well aware of Mark’s asshole tendencies and who still has nightmares about the last time they had a fight, watches the conversation with vested interest.

 

No one can hear what is being said, but Rey can tell by the tension in her shoulders that Phasma is getting agitated with whatever Mark is spewing at her.

 

Rey sits up straighter in her swivel chair, now barley bothering to conceal that she is watching them closely.

 

_This is not going to end well_

 

“-and if this is all getting to be too much for you…” Mark says softly behind closed doors, stopping his pacing to look over at Phasma.

 

“ _Excuse me_?”

 

Mark gives a forlorn sigh “No one wants to say it to you, honey, because, well, everyone’s a little scared of you, aren’t they, but everyone is thinking it”

 

“Thinking what?” and Phasma, who’s worked with condescending assholes her entire career, already knows where this is going and is getting more keyed up with every word

 

“Every year the website is expanding and the projects get more stressful, more ambitious—and since this _is_ an extension of ESPN sports, the board just thinks that it’s better if someone with a little more… _experience_ takes over” he pauses for a moment, considering, and then says, “You know how overwhelming this all can be for you sweetheart”

 

Which is entirely the wrong thing to say

 

“get the fuck out of my office!”

 

everyone outside can hear _that_ , followed by the subsequent vase connecting to the wall and shattering mere inches away from the side of Mark’s head.  

 

“It’s over! The wedding is off!” Mark hisses as he walks backwards out of the office and Rey wonders if that fact hadn’t been obvious to him already with the whole vase being thrown at his head and all.

 

He scurries towards the lift, sweating bullets under the collar of his shirt and muttering “crazy bitch” under his breath

 

Phasma, chest heaving and fists clenched, as if remembering where she is snaps her head to look out of her office towards her staff, and everyone, with the exception of Rey, abruptly looks away or dips their head to avoid eye contact.

 

She gets up abruptly, reaches for the door and steps out of the threshold. Her cheeks are red with anger and the exertion of nearly committing a crime of passion. She sighs, running a smoothing hand at her skirt “Rey, can you help me clean this up, please?”

 

Once Mark is all the way gone and the office has recovered from the initial shock, Rey is left to pick up the pieces (both figuratively and literally). She remembers Phasma buying this vase, a mid-century piece with too much personality to completely fit in amongst the sharp lines of the rest of the décor. She liked this one, it’s a shame it had to go like this.

 

“Is everyone really afraid of me?” the voice is small and coming from where Phasma would be sitting

 

Rey looks up to find that the voice _is_ Phasma and stills, fully aware that her boss has never made this much eye contact with her in the three years she’s been working under her thumb.  

 

Rey is crouched by the door, picking up shards of vase carefully and placing them in a brown paper bag.

 

She looks around the office for inspiration but ultimately settles for-

 

“No…?” it sounds more like a question and Rey mentally slaps herself

 

“Oh my god, he’s right, you’re all _terrified_ of me and they’re going to replace me with some man who is _far_ less qualified than me but will keep getting promoted for no apparent reason other than the fact that he has a dick hanging between his legs and- “

 

Rey knows hyperventilation when she sees it and she scrambles to her feet, chewing hard on her lip and approaching Phasma slowly like you would a scared child

 

She sits on the corner of the desk and reaches out a hand only to let it fall before actually making contact with Phasma’s shoulder

 

“No one is going to replace you, this is _your_ website” Rey tells her in a manner that she hopes is comforting “besides your contract isn’t up until the end of next month, we’ll just have to publish some kick ass stories and then they won’t even dream of replacing you”

 

Rey has never been good with people, having spent the better part of her childhood alone, but her words seem to work as Phasma sits up a little straighter and shoots her what could be considered a smile, if you squint.

 

Except, as most things, Phasma takes her speech a little too seriously.

 

Rey figures it’s what’s kept her in the industry this many years, dedication and drive and relentlessness, it’s one of the things she admires the most about her but this…this is _insane_.     

   

“Rey!” she bellows, for what has to be the _tenth_ time in the last couple of hours.

 

Most people have vacated the office, seeing as it’s just shy of eleven o’clock, and even Lewis has finished up taking out the trash, patting her shoulder consolingly as he went.

 

Rey shoots up from her desk and walks the couple steps into the office. Phasma is at her workspace, blazer long removed, typing away furiously at her computer. She enters carefully, appointment book tucked under her chin and her laptop propped on her forearm

 

“Go get some dinner, Rey, we’re in for a long night”

 

“yes of course, what would you like?”

 

at that Phasma stops typing and looks up, cocking her head

 

“Nothing, I meant _you_ go get some dinner for _yourself_. My chef left a salad for me this morning” she says, waving her away  

 

Rey sputters for a moment but in her defense, Phasma has never even asked her if she requires food to survive. She’d even started to think that maybe Phasma thought she was a robot or some kind of A.I-

 

“Yeah, okay, I-thanks”

 

She hauls ass out of there before she has a chance to change her mind.

 

She’s in the lobby when she hears her name being called out. The voice is unfamiliar at first, low and baritone, but when she turns and sees a large man in a suit approaching her, she knows exactly who it is

 

“Ben” she calls “what are you doing here so late”

 

he shrugs “sight-seeing, mostly, this building really does have some great pieces”

 

“You’re an idiot” he nods, agreeing “I’m getting some dinner, wanna come?”

 

Ben looks around the empty lobby as if expecting someone to zip down from the ceiling and tell him he’s being punked. When the space remains Ashton Kutcher-less he loosens his tie a little and says “Yeah, sure, what are you feening for?”

 

Rey shrugs and looks at her watch “whatever is open?”

 

“Ah, good choice, I know just the place”  

 

They end up at a curbside hotdog stand that is just about closed for the night. The light is still on, announcing hot dogs in vibrant neon and when the older heavy-set man behind the stand catches sight of Ben, he chuckles, but grins kindly at the younger man.

 

“Back for more Solo?”

 

“Oh, you know me, Skip, nothing if not an upstanding New Yorker”  

 

The older man laughs and after a moment hands him what she imagines is his usual order, two hot dogs piled with ketchup, mustard, and tons of relish. Ben pays once they’ve both gotten their food, waving away her ten-dollar bill and slipping in a little extra for Skip.

 

“I know you hate owing people money so you can just get it next time” he says around a mouthful of hotdog

 

Rey hums and then groans into the food

 

“Good, right?”

 

“how have I never been to this place?” she’s been living in New York for the past three years, it seems almost sacrilegious

 

Ben shrugs “it’s mostly hipster food and gourmet shit now” he takes another bite and swallows “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid, Skip’s a good man, it’s a shame to see him run out of business by some dicks with handlebar mustaches and suspenders charging twenty dollars for a _tofu dog_ ”

 

Rey flinches at that, she happens to _like_ tofu dogs ever since Rose, who’s a vegetarian, put her on to them. She keeps that information to herself though and nods.

 

The food really is good, though, and the night is quiet, a rare sight in New York. They sit on a nearby curb, yellow pain chipping off, a ‘no stopping or parking’ sign looming overhead and Rey finally allows herself to relax. He notices how her shoulders melt into a slouch and he knocks her with his elbow

 

“Long day?”

 

“You could say that” she says, focusing on the trajectory of a nearby cab “my boss got broken up with today”

 

She pauses and reconsiders “actually, I think she did the breaking up, I’m not sure about the semantics, but she threw a vase at his head”

 

Ben nods as if that’s not the craziest thing anyone has told him about their day “I think that counts as breaking up”

 

Rey takes another bite of her hotdog and wipes her fingers on her pants “I don’t know if she loved him or anything but sucks anyways”

 

Ben agrees “at least your boss has contact with a member of the opposite gender. My boss hasn’t gotten laid in years” he turns to look at her seriously “and when I say years, I mean _years_ -I’ve been running his schedule for some time and never has he even come close to anything remotely sexual”

 

Rey laughs “and you sustain that you’re not his assistant?”

 

Ben glares “no comment”

 

He polishes off his food and wipes his hands on a napkin

 

“It’s no wonder he walks around with a stick up his ass” he comments and Rey nods in agreement, the most relaxed she’s ever seen Phasma was when Mark was courting her, all soft smiles and secretive sexcapades. They got so much work done back then, without her second-guessing everything, their best work perhaps and-

 

“Oh my god” she slaps Ben on the arm “is your boss attractive?”

 

Ben wrinkles his nose “Do I have to answer that?”

 

The look Rey pins him with says yes

 

He sighs “he’s not…bad looking… I guess” Ben looks miserable at the route that this conversation has taken “I mean he’s a ginger, kind of pale, average height, a perpetual ‘something smells like shit’ kind of look on his face”

 

“Picture?”

 

Ben looks dismayed at the fact that he actually does have some on his phone “not a word” he warns as he fishes out his phone from his pocket and Rey has to chew on her lip to keep from laughing at the dozens of images of his boss that populate his camera roll

 

He’s right about the guy, his hair is a fiery red as are his cheeks in this particular picture of him _at the beach_. She’s not going to ask why Ben has this on his phone because, well, she’s taken the assistant’s equivalent of the Hippocratic oath that prevents her from judging.

 

The guy’s nose is pinched in that snobby rich guy kind of way and she’ll be damned if the dude doesn’t look like Phasma’s type.

 

Rey grins and Ben watches her suspiciously

 

“Ben, hear me out, I have an idea”

 

.

.

.

 

The next day see’s Rey struggling to keep pace with Ben as they rush into the office building approximately three minutes late.

 

“C’mon, Ben, this could really work—I’m telling you my boss is a sucker for pale and you said so yourself, Hux is partial to blondes”

 

Ben pauses at the elevator and looks over at her “and I’m partial to my ball sack still attached to my body. If Snoke even gets a whiff of this-“

 

Rey rolls her eyes as they enter parallel elevators

 

“No one will find out, its harmless, we’d be doing them a _favor_ ” he shakes his head as he jabs the button for the top floor

 

“Just think about it!” she calls right as the doors are closing and he disappears from view.

 

The day is shitty to say the least, Phasma is strung up so tight that it’s a wonder she hasn’t snapped yet

 

“It’s like watching a pressure cooker” Rose mutters on her way to the bathroom “it heats and heats and heats until…BOOM!” she wiggles her fingers around, imitating what is bound to happen sooner or later

 

Rey nods and slumps further into her chair, she’s about to delve further into assessing a piece on race relations in basketball (only the third article on her pile of _dozens_ ) when her computer dings with a message.

 

It’s from Ben and it reads:

_Fine, what’s the plan?_


End file.
